


frequencies

by bonvivants



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Tribbles (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonvivants/pseuds/bonvivants
Summary: After a particularly long and hectic shift (too many things going wrong, not enough going right), Jim was more than ready to turn in. And he would have, if it wasn’t for one thing:The other side of the bed was empty.--Jim is a little strung-out. Spock has just the thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> written for psock on tumblr as part of the stnetwork new years gift exchange!! they asked for spirk and tribbles, and i, well i tried to deliver. happy new year!!

The digital clock on the partition reads 00:00 when Jim stirs awake.

 

He hadn’t been out for long, having fallen asleep still wearing his regulation slacks and black t-shirt, which meant he hadn’t intended for it to happen in the first place. After a particularly long and hectic shift (too many things going wrong, not enough going right), Jim was more than ready to turn in. And he would have, if it wasn’t for one thing: 

 

The other side of the bed was empty. 

 

Spock had mentioned just before excusing himself from the bridge that he would be a little later coming back than usual. Had it been any other time, that alone would have aroused Jim’s curiosity. But today had been particularly long, and Jim left the conn to Sulu with a dull ache at the back of his head, ready to head straight to his quarters without dinner (Bones will know, Bones will chastise him about it, but that’s a problem for future Jim). 

 

He sits up, both hands reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes, and allows himself to sulk.  _ Where’s Spock?  _

 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to sit and wonder for long--almost as soon as Jim had resigned himself to sleeping alone, the sound of the sliding door and the harsh light coming in from the hall paints a tall, shadowy figure that he is more than familiar with. 

 

“About time.” Jim throws his feet over the edge of the bed and pushes himself off, rising to meet the other as he steps through the threshold. “I was just about to go out and find you.” 

 

Spock doesn’t seem at all surprised to find Jim still awake. Surely, he’s used to it by now, or a part of him expected this--when was the last time either of them had gone to bed alone? 

 

“No need,” Spock says after a pause, “There were matters that I had to attend to, which kept me from returning sooner rather than later.” He approaches slowly, and accepts the arms that almost immediately latch around his neck, his own hands resting comfortable on Jim’s hips. “I had thought you would be asleep upon my return.” 

 

Jim snorts, the tip of his nose nuzzling against the crook of Spock’s neck, as if to say,  _ yeah, right _ . Now that he was here, Jim was ready to call it a night, curl up in bed next to another warm body and sleep for at  _ least _ eight hours. 

 

And he might have, had it not been for the strange wiggling he felt against his thigh. 

 

“Spock,” Jim starts, his voice just the slightest bit suggestive, “is that something in your pocket, or is just some Vulcan biology I don’t know about?” 

 

And just like that, Spock freezes in place, the slow, circular motions he was rubbing into the skin of Jim’s hips stopping all at once. For a moment, Jim suspects he might have crossed a line, some unspoken boundary that they hadn’t gotten around to establishing, but it seemed unlikely after all this time. 

 

He pulls away, grabs Spock by his shoulders, the suggestive tone in his voice replaced with one of slight worry. “Spock?” 

 

“Jim, if you’d allow me, there is something I need to remove from my pocket.” 

 

Immediately, Jim lets go, and allows Spock the movement of his arms. He watches carefully, a mix of concern and confusion on his face.  _ What a strange night this is turning out to be. _

 

What Spock does pull out of his pocket is the farthest thing that Jim was expecting. Gently, with all the care in the world, Spock presents what looks like an oversized cotton ball, or maybe a cushion of some sort, which was odd enough--except, it was  _ moving.  _

 

Jim knows it’s rude to stare, but, honestly: “What the hell is that.” 

 

Spock, to his credit, recovers much faster than Jim does. He gently strokes the chirping, wiggling….thing with two fingers, brushing its hair back, and seems….calmed by it? 

 

“Dr. McCoy and I have classified this lifeform as a tribble. It seems that it had burrowed itself in the pockets of one of the crew and was beamed aboard by mistake.” From the look on Spock’s face, he didn’t seem terribly worried about it at all. 

 

Jim remains wary. “And you’ve investigated the incident,” he says, more of a statement rather than question. 

 

“I have,” Spock replies, the tribble now held close to his chest, and Jim has a hard time wrapping his head around this. “There appears to has been an infestation on the starbase from which our crew has returned, although the matter is currently being investigated further. You will be presented with a full report upon your return to the bridge.” 

 

“An infestation.” Jim’s eyes narrow in on the tribble. “Then why, in god’s name, would you bring it here?” 

 

Instead of a response, Spock closes the small gap between them and reaches for Jim’s hand, then guides it over the tribble, urging him to pet it. “We have found that they have many interesting properties, such as the ability to affect the human nervous system by emitting a calming sound when touched.” He lets go of Jim’s hand, assured that he would not pull away. 

 

Although he had been skeptical at first (and, to be honest, still was), Jim was not immune to this so-called ‘calming effect.’ He gave in, and found that almost immediately, the day’s stress and worries melts off his shoulders, relieving the tension in his lower back, and the dull ache in his head, gone. 

 

“Oh,” Jim starts, eyes transfixed, “I definitely needed that.” 

 

If Spock was at all smug about succeeding in the task at hand, he doesn’t show it. “I am aware. It has come to my attention that your stress levels have been exceeding the limits of what is healthy for an adult male.” His words suggest a scientific detachment, but the palm he places on top of Jim’s says otherwise. And if Jim has learned anything from his own subtle observations, it’s that this was Spock’s way of expressing worry for his wellbeing.  _ He cares.  _

 

Jim doesn’t tease him about it. He grins. “In that case, thank you.” He pulls his hand away. “But, seriously, Spock. An  _ infestation? _ ” 


End file.
